


just me and the lavender moon

by brophigenia



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Bisexual Roz, Bisexual Sabrina, Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Magic, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 02, Touch-Starved, and roz is here to save the day, because it's canon that witches are bi and poly, cemetery sex, guys listen i'm just a mess, how is that not a tag yet, kind of, sabrina needs someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brophigenia/pseuds/brophigenia
Summary: Every day that Sabrina goes without someone touching her, smiling at her, tugging her back down to earth, she becomes more…other.The mortal and witch sides of her are constantly at war, and the way that she grimacingly explains it iswitches don’t love. Not like that. We—theylove themselves, and their power, and pleasure. We were all promised pleasure.Her eyes are too dark when she says things like that, and visibly she drifts a little more away from herself every time she thinks of all the things she was promised.(AKA, it has been months since Nick Scratch went to hell. Sabrina isn't doing well. Roz takes matters into her own hands. And Harvey's. With sexy results.)





	just me and the lavender moon

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe that there are no Roz/Sabrina fics posted on AO3. Or Roz/Sabrina/Harvey. I decided to fix that. You cowards. 
> 
> Title from Lavender Moon by Haroula Rose, cut lyrics from Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac and Harsh Realm by Widowspeak. 
> 
> (The present that Lilith sends Sabrina is a locket with a lock of Nick's hair in it, by the way.) 
> 
> Comment and let's cry about CAOS.

_ dreams unwind _

_ love’s a state of mind _

_ *** _

_ I want it all,  _ Sabrina had said from the time she could understand what wanting was, if not explicitly then  _ implicitly,  _ with every word and action. Every toss of her head, every determined gleam in her eyes. She’d wanted her cake and she’d wanted to eat it too, sharing the spoils of each and every one of her private wars with her friends, gracious and sharp as a queen. That’s how Roz had always thought of them, secretly, in her mind: wars, not debates, not arguments, not protests.  _ Sabrina Spellman Versus the World.  _ Sabrina wanted to fight, and she wanted to  _ win.  _ She wanted to hold in her hands the submission and defeat of every single one of her enemies— unfair teachers, rude crossing guards, tyrannical boards of directors, misogynistic principals, sadistic boys. Sabrina was raised to snatch up what she wanted, to lay claim to her desires, to eat the apple. 

Roz was not raised to eat the apple. She was raised to take what she was given. She had to  _ learn  _ to want things, to  _ learn  _ how to take them and not feel terribly about it. Not feel  _ guilty.  _ She had to learn all of that, and then turn around and learn when  _ not  _ to take the things she wanted. Not from guilt, but from conscience. Roz was raised to worship, empty in her heart and sturdy in her knees. Roz was raised to  _ Know  _ when things were right. Roz has the Cunning, but even without it, she knows when something is  _ right. _

Being with Harvey is  _ right.  _

Fighting against injustice is  _ right.  _

Accepting Theo for who he is is  _ right.  _

Sabrina is  _ right. _

“I’m scared, Roz.” It is soft, girlish; a sob in the dark, wet against the back of Roz’s neck. Sabrina’s limbs like bleached vines, curled around Roz’s body. Her heart pounding so hard Roz can feel it through her back, her ribs. “I’m so scared.” She’d been the one to propose the slumber party, tucked up in Sabrina’s bed at the Mortuary already after a long evening combing through arcane tomes with tiny print that give Roz headaches and make Sabrina’s eyes go dark like endless pools of tar in her porcelain doll face. 

Roz thinks of pretending to be asleep; thinks of ignoring Sabrina’s fear. Even the thought hurts. 

She squeezes Sabrina’s hands. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Brina, it’s okay.” A chant, a prayer.  _ Oh my love. My girl.  _ Roz had never loved anyone who wasn’t related to her, before she learned to love Sabrina Spellman. Theo had been next, and then Harvey had come much later, but Sabrina had been the first. She’d looked like she was always about to cry when she thought nobody could see her; she’d been larger than life with the spotlight shone upon her, and the saddest girl in the whole world when it did not. Two extremes. She’d seemed like two girls, one who belonged among people, and one who… didn’t. 

When she’d been with Harvey, Sabrina had been…  _ better.  _ She’d been more focused, less fraught, less sad in the spare moments. Before her sixteenth birthday, that golden period between then and fourteen had been so studded with sunshine and happiness that Roz had all but forgotten that there was any other Sabrina than the one who laughed at scary movies and twirled them around in the hallways, always optimistic. Always gleaming. 

She’d been better with Nick, too, from what Roz could tell- she was still a strange, fey thing that Roz worried herself sick over at night when she had nightmares about Sabrina and thorny crowns and  _ death,  _ but she’d been happier, easier in her body, her movements more human, less pointed, less unnaturally graceful. She’d been giddy, with a hidden kiss tucked up at the corner of her dark lips, just like the old  _ Peter Pan  _ VHS tape they’d worn out as girls, giggling over how handsome the boy who played Peter was. 

Without Nick, without anyone to hold her close, Sabrina is not  _ okay.  _

Every day that Sabrina goes without someone touching her, smiling at her, tugging her back down to earth, she becomes more…  _ other.  _ The mortal and witch sides of her are constantly at war, and the way that she grimacingly explains it is  _ witches don’t love. Not like that. We—  _ they _ love themselves, and their power, and pleasure. We were all promised pleasure.  _ Her eyes are too dark when she says things like that, and visibly she drifts a little more away from herself every time she thinks of all the things she was  _ promised.  _

(Roz imagines how it must have been, the night Sabrina signed away her soul, signed her name in her own blood, bargained away the biggest part of her humanity for power and  _ pleasure.  _ It is never not horrible, her imaginings. It is never not heartbreaking.) 

Nick Scratch lies in Hell, imprisoned in a cell of his own flesh and bone, and Sabrina is drifting every day she doesn’t have him to focus her love on, every day she doesn’t get to twine her fingers in his dark hair and kiss him until she’s settled back into her bones again. He was her lightning rod, the way Harvey was, once. He took all of her passion and soaked in it, allowed it to saturate him down to his marrow. Sabrina has so much love. 

Roz wonders what will happen when Sabrina goes too long, strays too far. She wonders, watching the color leech from Sabrina’s hair and skin with every passing week that they don’t stage a daring rescue and exorcism and… something. Honestly, Roz isn’t even sure how it would  _ work.  _ They could get the devil (oh God, the  _ devil)  _ out of Nick, she’s sure, but what then? 

How do you kill an angel? How do you kill something that even God could not? Lucifer was cast down, not destroyed, and surely if it were possible it would have been  _ done.  _ It gives Roz a sinking feeling in her gut whenever she thinks about it, and Bible versus spring to her mind. 

_ The harvest has passed,  _ she thinks when October comes upon them again, creeping,  _ the summer is ended and we are not saved.  _ Jeremiah 8:20. A favorite of her father’s, when he is feeling particularly pointed in his preaching around the time that everyone is rolling back into church after long months ignoring Sunday sermons in favor of lounging by their above-ground pools and running through backyard sprinklers. 

Something has to be done in the meantime, until they can get Nick back, because out of the corner of her eyes Roz sees Sabrina as a ghost, as a terror of a thing with ever-sharpening teeth and ever-hungrier eyes. Even Salem gets more frightening as the weeks pass with no success, no luck; his prowling becomes more pointed, his hackles always raised, his eyes sometimes going red as blood, bright as hellfire. They are never far apart, anymore, Sabrina and Salem. Curled together on couches, whispering in the cemetery, slipping out in the middle of the night to slink into the Greendale Woods. It’s all approaching  _ Wicker Man  _ levels of  _ not okay,  _ and Roz can only take so much of it before she needs to put a stop to it by any means necessary. 

“Polyamory…” Harvey says doubtfully, furrowing his brow and looking terribly charming, confused and handsome from his seat at his drawing desk. “Isn’t that the thing with the people in Utah and the long dresses?” 

“No, that’s polygamy. Kind of.” She tips her head to the side, grimacing, and then shakes off her disgust to continue. “It’s a lifestyle, or a type of relationship… With more than two people. And those people can all be together, or only some of them can be together, but they’re all connected in some way, and everyone is happy because their boundaries are being respected and they’re getting what they need.” 

Harvey digests this, nodding, eyes sharp as they trace over her, and he folds his hands in his lap, thinking, before he speaks to her. “And… you’re not getting what you need? Now, I mean. With just the two of us.” He’s so brave when he says it, her Harvey, tightness around his eyes, and Roz is not made of stone, so she ends up across the room and in his lap, caressing that tension off of his face, before she answers him. 

“No.  _ No.  _ It’s not me. It’s. Well. It’s Sabrina, Harvey.” 

He sharpens even further at the mention of her, and Roz knows she’s not the only one who has noticed the terror upon the girl they both have loved since they were young enough to have Band-Aids on their knees and mouths sticky from too much candy. Harvey knows Sabrina, knows her just as well as Roz does. He knows what she’s saying. He may be a little dense, but Harvey isn’t unobservant. Isn’t stupid. 

Sabrina takes very little convincing, especially considering it’s the night of her birthday and there’s no Nick to celebrate with. Hilda had made a towering cake and there had been presents from everyone-- a new quilt from Hilda, painstakingly stitched, a leatherbound copy of  _ The Lilithian Bible  _ from (and  _ by) _ Zelda, a stack of comic books from Doctor Cerberus, a pearl-handled knife from Theo, a painting of Salem from Harvey, even a locket from the Queen of Hell herself, though its contents make Sabrina’s eyes go bright with unshed tears and her mouth draw tight with frustration. Not even the letter from Prudence and Ambrose cheers her up, read dramatically by Hilda in her best approximation of their voices. 

“I’ll give you my present later,” Roz promises, and squeezes Harvey’s hand beneath the table. “For now, let’s eat!” 

She and Harvey catch Sabrina perched on a headstone in the cemetery  _ later, _ once everyone has either gone home or gone to bed. She’s wearing a black sweater several sizes too big for her elfin frame, and in the dark of night her pupils are not distinguishable from her irises, not even beneath the waxing gibbous moon’s light, black as coal. Fathomless. “We want to help,” Roz says softly, and she can see that Sabrina wants to say  _ yes  _ but thinks she should refuse, for their sake. “Brina, please. Let us help you.” 

“Roz.” Sabrina whispers, shakily, and the moment that Roz’s lips touch hers she  _ shudders,  _ coming alive and alight, cheeks blooming with color. It is like a scene from a movie, like Roz is awakening her from a magical sleep. Sabrina tastes like licorice and peppermint, and she sighs into Roz’s mouth like a crisp Autumn breeze, full of relief. 

“You need it, Brina.” Harvey says quietly, coming around to wrap an arm around them both. He’s so good at these kinds of things-- at  _ touching.  _ His thumb rubs at the base of Roz’s spine, a quiet, soft touch that makes her  _ melt.  _ She’s turned on. It wasn’t supposed to be for  _ them.  _ It was supposed to be all for Sabrina, but Roz can’t deny that it feels good, feels  _ right  _ to have Sabrina’s face cradled between her palms, to have Harvey’s hands on them both as she steps forward, between Sabrina’s thighs, trying to get as close as possible. “It’s okay.” 

“I miss him,” Sabrina weeps, breath hitching, even as she’s kissing a trail from Roz’s mouth to her jaw to her throat, right above where her carotid artery flutters with the pound of her heart. “I miss him  _ so much.”  _

“I know,” Roz tells her, dizzy with desire and still burning with the need to comfort her best friend. “I know, but we’re going to get him back. I promise, Sabrina. I  _ promise.”  _ Sabrina shakes, her teeth scraping over Roz’s skin, and Roz knows it’s because of the hand Harvey’s got up underneath her skirt, a plum-colored thing that she wasn’t wearing tights with despite the Halloween Night chill. Harvey kisses her, teeth and tongue and sweetness and  _ heat,  _ and Roz loves him so much sometimes it doesn’t seem real, like she’s been dreaming for the last seven months and any second she’ll wake up alone. 

They’re a tangle of bodies, of hands and sighs, and Roz has got a hand twisted into both Sabrina and Harvey’s hair, keeping their mouths upon her skin, keeping them grounded and keeping them close to her. 

Sabrina comes with her hand clamped down on Harvey’s forearm, whispering her gratitude into the crook of Roz’s neck, wet and hot. She trembles against them, murmuring their names, and then she’s moving, twisting until she’s got them both pressed against the gravemarker of someone named  _ Gwydion Elphias Spellman.  _ “What do you want?” Sabrina asks, lipstick smeared and cheeks flushed and looking more  _ herself  _ than she had in all the months since Lillith carried her boyfriend off into the fires of Hell. 

“Anything.” 

“Whatever you want to give.” Roz and Harvey say at the same time, and then laugh, twining their fingers together at their sides and kissing once and then again. When they pull apart Sabrina is looking at them so  _ wistfully  _ it makes Roz’s heart ache. 

“Dealer’s choice it is, then.” She murmurs, and drops to her knees. It makes Harvey groan, and Sabrina’s smile goes from wishful to impish all in the span of a second. “Hold onto your horses.” She warns, and then Roz’s tights are being hauled down around her ankles and Harvey’s jeans are unzipping themselves, everything stopping around them. The wind stops rustling the trees, whose branches curve keenly around like they’re trying to watch. Even the crickets stop chirruping.  _ Everything _ stops, because Sabrina Spellman is kneeling before them. 

Her mouth is the kind of revelation that is written about in the Bible: awesome, life-changing, earth-shattering. Roz isn’t sure if it’s because of some kind of magic or if it’s because it’s  _ Sabrina,  _ and maybe she’s wanted this for longer than she’s been able to bring herself to acknowledge, but Sabrina licks over her, head ducked under the hem of her jumper, and Roz’s mind short-circuits, goes gloriously blank for a long moment of stunned bliss. Sabrina’s got a hand around Harvey, too, and he’s groaning raggedly into Roz’s shoulder, hands grasping at her waist tight enough she’s sure he’s going to leave bruises, but even that feels good, too, because it’s  _ Harvey  _ and it’s  _ Sabrina  _ and maybe this was meant to happen, maybe all of this was  _ meant  _ to happen, because Roz can’t imagine a world where she dies  _ not  _ knowing the feel of Sabrina’s mouth on her clit, bringing her to orgasm with her free hand curved fondly around Roz’s knee, stroking the back of it. 

They’re both useless after, her and Harvey, slumped on the ground with Sabrina between them, backs leaned up against Gwydion Spellman’s monument and legs weak at the knees. Sabrina is practically purring, the hungry pit inside of her where her soul  _ used  _ to be satisfactorily full of pleasure, no longer a starving, yawning maw howling to be fed. 

“We’re going to rescue him,” Roz murmurs into her best friend’s hair, Harvey’s breaths so even she thinks he might be asleep. “We can do this. We can do anything, together.” 

“Together.” Sabrina agrees sleepily, and Roz falls asleep like that, all three of them curled together like kittens, watched over by the moon and the dead and Salem, standing silent vigil nearby. 

***

_ last night, i thought of you _

_ years ago, when bodies grew _

**Author's Note:**

> (...and then they DO get Satan out of Nick, Lilith kills Satan and marries High Priestess Zelda, and everybody lives happily ever after. And Theo and Billy are a Thing and it's glorious and they are glorious boyfriends who love and support each other. Also, Prudence and Ambrose succeed in their quest, Prudence comes home to be the new Headmistress of the Academy of Unseen Arts, and everything is okay. Fight me.) 
> 
> follow me @ brophigenia.tumblr.com


End file.
